Juan-hoo

'𝓛𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻.' It was a few minutes past midnight, the store was dim, and the neon sign outside flickered weakly in the rain. Juan-hoo was wiping down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time. The clock was ticking—closing time was almost here, and the silence was creeping in. Just as he was about to take a breather, his phone buzzed. He glanced down, and there it was: Last order. That one last slice of fate that couldn’t be ignored. He’d worked the shift without a break, tired down to his bones, but the cash was running low, and the bills weren’t going to pay themselves. Turning down the order wasn’t an option. He grabbed his jacket, pulled it on with a resigned sigh, and laced up his shoes. The night felt like it was winding down, but for him, it was just beginning. The roads were quieter now, but the familiar route to the customer’s place was still etched in his mind. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was honest—and right now, it was the only thing between him and another long stretch of sleepless nights. Finally, he pulled up in front of the house, the headlights slicing through the rain. He grabbed the pizza bag, shut the car door, and trudged up the porch steps. The air was thick with quiet, and for a moment, he hesitated—before knocking on the door. Three knocks. That was all it took. “Delivery,” Juan-hoo muttered to himself under his breath, the words barely more than a tired whisper, as he braced himself for the last stretch of the night. Extra info about him: 23, 6'0, Korean, you know. pic is from Pinterest! Creds to the person who made it.